


A Wonderful Witcher Life

by HappyJuicyfruit



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas Fluff, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fae & Fairies, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27923836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyJuicyfruit/pseuds/HappyJuicyfruit
Summary: When Geralt makes a wish that he had never been born, a Fae named Dandelion appears to show him exactly what life would have been like for everyone else if Geralt had not been there to save them.Or, It’s a Wonderful Life - for Geralt the Witcher.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 147





	A Wonderful Witcher Life

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovely readers! 
> 
> This fic is based on the movies It's A Wonderful Life, but you don't have to watch that to understand the fic :)   
> Some holiday angst and fluff for you all! :) 
> 
> Warnings (which contain spoilers):   
> Geralt talks about not wanting to live anymore   
> Everyone in this fic is sad until the end   
> Jaskier is drugged against his will
> 
> Look after yourselves my friends! <3

Ciri didn’t put up much of a fuss before leaving with Yennefer. Geralt wasn’t surprised, but it still stung. It had taken him months to get her to trust him, and she had been with Yennefer for all of one day before agreeing to train with her. 

She was probably glad to get away from Geralt. 

They both were. 

Yen had only come for Ciri after Geralt had begged. She’d only taken the girl because she liked her, Geralt was under no illusion that this was a favour to him. Her look of disgust before she stepped into the portal to leave was all he had to know. He wasn’t winning her back. 

And now Ciri was gone too. 

\--

The snow was beginning to fall heavily, but neither Lambert nor Eskel had arrived yet for the winter. Vesemir was growing worried. 

Geralt was tired of worrying. 

He left Vesemir by the fire, facing the entrance, to get some air. He needed to breathe, needed to get this tightness off his chest. 

The tower was crumbling, but still sturdy enough to sit. Geralt looked out over the mountain view, wishing he could be somewhere else. 

Something else. 

He was tired of being worried about his fellow witchers. They all knew they were destined to die a gruesome death. They knew they would die alone, the annoyed townspeople not likely to give them a burial. 

He was tired of worrying about Ciri, and how he was going to help her. There was a war. She had these powers… Geralt couldn’t do anything for her. He’d run from her before, and now he was doing it again. 

At least he knew Yen could help her. 

But with Yen came more confusion… he was tired of trying to find out if what was between them was real. Tired of second guessing everything they had ever said to each other. 

Tired of reliving the mountain over and over again. 

And Jaskier… 

Geralt closed his eyes. He didn’t like to think about it. He didn’t like to think at all. 

He wished he had never been made a bloody witcher. Wished he could have just been a simple man, who died when his time was right. Wished…that none of this had happened. Everyone he cared about hated him. He’d hurt them all. 

“Everything would be better without me. I wish I had never been born.” 

“You don’t mean that.” 

Geralt didn’t jump, but it was a near thing. He was on top of the last standing tower of Kaer Morhen, other than Vesemir, there wasn’t a soul for miles. 

And that had not been Vesemir’s voice. 

He turned, slowly, to see a man standing beside the stairs. A green, flowery, outfit. Brown hair. Blue eyes. As happy as he was to see the man, the sight of him made Geralt’s chest tighten further. 

“Jaskier? What are you doing here?” 

“Not Jaskier,” the man, who looked exactly like Jaskier, said, “my name is Dandelion,” he did a dramatic bow. Fucking acted like Jaskier. “I’m here to show you something.” 

Geralt sighed, “Jaskier, I don’t have time-” 

“It’s Dandelion, you have nothing but time, and this is extremely important.” 

Geralt glared at him, “stop playing games, how did you even get here?” 

“Magic,” Jaskier said with a grin. 

“You don’t know magic.” 

“Jaskier doesn’t, I do. And I’m about to show you just how important you are to the people in your life.” 

“Jaskier, stop this.” 

“Not Jaskier.” 

Geralt huffed, “prove it, then.” 

“Alright,” Jaskier said, and then stepped forward and tapped Geralt on the forehead. He blinked, swatting away the man’s hand, and then froze. 

They weren’t on the tower anymore, they were in the main hall. The fire was still burning, but Vesemir wasn’t here anymore. Geralt looked around wildly. The crisp air was gone, replaced by the warm glow of the fire. It even smelled like the wood smoke. 

No one could do this. Yennefer couldn’t even do this without a portal. 

“How did-” 

“Magic.” 

Geralt turned, he was standing right behind him, calm as ever. Jaskier wouldn’t be calm. Jaskier wouldn’t be able to transport them to different rooms…. 

This wasn’t Jaskier. 

“Dandelion,” Geralt said. “What do you want from me.” 

Dandelion grinned with Jaskier’s lips, “I told you, I want to show you how important you are.” 

Geralt looked around the room, “by taking me to the main hall?” 

Dandelion laughed, “no, by showing you what life would have been like if you had never been born at all.” 

Geralt stiffened. Dandelion was powerful, and anything powerful that wanted to intervene like this was probably some type of Fae. But why would a Fae care about him? 

“Why?” 

“Let’s just say I’m a fan.” 

Geralt’s brow furrowed, but before he could ask any more questions, the front door slammed open. Geralt turned to see Eskel making his way inside, a deer thrown over his shoulder. 

But this… was not the Eskel he recognized. 

He looked haggard, and worn. His face was set in a scowl instead of his usual smile. His clothes, layered for warmth, looked torn and frayed, like he’d stopped taking care of them. 

Eskel shut the door with a grunt before making his way inside. 

“Eskel?” Geralt called to his brother, stepping towards him, “Eskel, the path was hard on you this year.” 

Eskel didn’t answer. Geralt frowned. 

“Eskel, are you alright?” 

No answer again. Geralt stepped forward to put his hand on the man's shoulder, but it fell through his skin. 

“What the fuck?” 

“They can’t see or hear you,” Dandelion said, appearing beside him, “you’re just here to watch.” 

“What’s wrong with him?” 

Dandelion hummed, watching as Eskel dropped the deer on the long table and then pulled out a knife to gut it. Something they usually did in the kitchen. 

“He was attacked, do you remember?” Dandelion asked, “it’s how he got his scars,” he dragged fingers across his own face. 

Geralt knew Eskel was embarrassed about his facial scars, but he didn’t understand. 

“I wasn’t there,” he argued, “the scars look the same.” 

“Yes, but you were there after,” Dandelion danced away from Eskel as deer guts were thrown to the floor. “You were there for your friend when he needed support most. You assured him that witchers were expected to have scars. That it wouldn’t change anything. Without you, Eskel was too afraid to leave the keep. Too afraid to return to the path.” 

“So he just lives here? All year?” 

“Yes. Him and Vesemir, the last two witchers of Kaer Morhen. Vesemir sometimes goes to the town nearby for supplies, but that’s it. As far as the continent knows, the school of the wolf is no more.” 

Geralt frowned, “what do you mean the last two witchers? What about Lambert?” 

“Ah, Lambert never became a witcher in this world,” Dandelion turned to him, “without you to guide him, Lambert never survived the trials.” 

Geralt’s mouth went dry. 

Eskel and Vesemir, alone and miserable. Lambert, his younger brother, dead… all because Geralt wasn’t there? It sounded ridiculous, but he could remember assuring Eskel that he was fine. His injuries meant nothing to humans. He remembered holding Lambert through the worst of the mutations. 

But had he really made that much of a difference? 

And… were they so much worse off now, than they were in his world? 

They were miserable here, but they were also miserable on the path. And Lambert could be killed at any moment. Maybe this saved them pain. 

“They’re better off,” Geralt grunted. “It’s good that neither of them are working as witchers. It saves them unneeded suffering.” 

Dandelion looked at him questioningly, and then he shrugged, “if you say so,” he said, and then tapped Geralt on the forehead again. 

\-- 

They were in a town, run down and abandoned. Geralt looked around, confused. A woman passed by with a cloak pulled tight around her. A child ran from one house to the next, fear written across his face. 

“What is this place? I don’t know these people.” 

“Don’t recognize it? This is the first town you ever saved working the path.” 

Geralt frowned, looking around again. He still didn’t recognize it. 

“Without your help, the kikimora killed more and more, living in their only water source. And then once they were weak, bandits came in and raided the town, killing the mayor on the way. There’s only two families left, the others are either dead or gone.” 

Geralt hummed, looking around at the abandoned huts. He barely remembered saving this town, but he did remember that they were ungrateful when he did. They only paid him half of what he was owed. 

One of his many lessons, that first year, that humans didn’t give a shit about witchers. 

Still, he would have taken the contract again. As would any other witcher. 

“Surely someone else would have come along to help them,” he said. 

“There are a lot of towns like this, ones that you, or Eskel, or Lambert saved in your world, that were destroyed here. You saved a lot of lives, Geralt. Entire towns full of people in your debt.” 

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Witcher’s are a dying species,” he said, turning away from the abandoned town and walking to the woods, “humans will have to learn how to deal with monsters on their own eventually, we won’t be around to save them forever. They were the ones who made sure of that.”

Dandelion sighed dramatically, much like Jaskier does when he’s annoyed at Geralt, “I see we’ll have to keep things  _ personal _ from now on.”

Geralt grunted, “there is nothing you can show me that will surprise me. I know my place in this world, I know what I have done. It won’t change anything, you’re wasting your time.” 

Dandelion appeared right in front of him with a pop. “We’ll see about that,” he said, and then tapped Geralt’s forehead. 

\-- 

“Stop doing that!” Geralt shoved Dandelion’s arm away. The man grinned at him in response, his teeth pointed. A subtle hint that this wasn’t Jaskier, and Geralt shouldn’t treat him like he was. 

Geralt sighed, looking around. They were in a forest now. One that he recognized. 

“This is where I first met Ciri.” 

“Yes,” Dandelion said, heading towards the edge of the clearing, where Geralt knew the cottage was. “And she’s still here.” 

Frowning, Geralt followed him. The cottage looked the same. The man and his wife looked the same. 

Ciri did not. 

She wore plain clothes. Her hair was pulled back, her face set in a scowl as she worked on clothes over a bucket of water. 

Laundry. She was helping the woman do the laundry. 

“Without you to come find her, she stayed with this family. They took her in, like one of their own, but it’s not an easy life.” 

Geralt grunted. Nothing was an easy life. 

“She looks well,” he said. Because she did. She was scowling, yes, but it’s not like she had been happy with him either. Perhaps… not as upset as she looked here, but at least she wasn’t in any danger. 

“She’s not.” 

“What do you mean?” He asked, his eyes not leaving Ciri. She looked fine. No injuries, no flinching as the woman helped her hang the clothes. She trusted them here. 

“Her powers,” Dandelion said. “They scare her. She has no idea what’s happening, and she’s too afraid to talk to these people about it. They would probably kick her out. They still think she’s just Fiona, a normal villager who lost her home.” 

“Hmm,” Geralt’s lips twisted. He didn’t like the idea of Ciri being alone in hiding who she was. 

“When she feels it building up, she goes into the woods in the middle of the night, and releases it all in one go. There are a number of topples trees thanks to her.” 

Geralt grunted, it was as good of a solution as any the two of the had tried together. 

“Yen is the one who helps Ciri with her powers. They’ll find each other eventually, with or without me.” 

“Yen doesn’t exist here. Not in the way you remember her.” 

Geralt turned to him. “What?” 

Dandelion tapped him on the head, and then they were in a village. 

“This is… the village outside of the manor where Yen and I met.” 

“Yes.” 

“Why are we here? Yennefer didn’t stay here long.” 

“In your world, no, she moved on soon after you left. But in this one, she found a reason to stay.” 

“... what reason?” 

Dandelion smirked at him, “you found the djinn, did you think she wouldn’t have found it on her own without you? She was a day’s ride away from it as it was.” 

“... I hadn’t thought about it.” 

“She found the djinn. He granted her wish. A child, a human child.” 

Gerald swallowed, “at what cost?” 

“Her magic.” 

“Yen would never-” 

“Her greatest wish was a child. She received it. Her and her son have a beautiful life here together. And when he marries and has children, she will help raise more.”

“Hm…” It didn’t sound like the Yen he knew. 

“There, see?” 

Geralt saw her. The two of them walked down the street, arm in arm, a basket tucked to her side. Her son was younger than Ciri, perhaps 8, but he looked happier than Ciri ever had. And so did she. Even with the extra lines around her eyes. 

He watched as he pulled away to pick up a flower on the side of the road, and then ran back to hand it to his mother. She smiled at him, tucking the flower behind his ear and making him laugh. 

Geralt turned away. “She’s better off without me. Everyone is.” 

Dandelion danced in front of him as Geralt walked away, “you haven’t even seen him yet, and you’re making assumptions?” 

“Seen who?” 

“You know who,” Dandelion said, smirking, “the first person you thought of when you saw me. The reason I look the way I do.” 

“...  _ you _ chose this form.” 

“I did no such thing. I look like the person you most wanted to see. The person who you most wanted to have an impact on. But, sadly, the Jaskier in this world doesn’t look like this.” 

Geralt stopped walking. “Explain.” 

Dandelion reached forward, and touched his nose.

\-- 

They were in a manor, in a sitting room. A family crest hung over the fireplace. One Geralt recognized, but one that Jaskier never bore 

“Lettenhove?” 

“Yes,” Dandelion pointed. 

Geralt's eyes widened. Jaskier was sitting by the fire, Geralt hadn’t even noticed him. He was sitting alone, staring at the flames, motionless

“Jaskier,” Geralt stepped forward, but his hands went through his friend's shoulder. 

“You can’t touch him.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Poison.”

“Poison?” Geralt crouched down, alarmed. Up close, he could see the signs. Shallow breathing, pupils blown wide and vacant. He looked sick. “Who is poisoning him?!” 

“His parents, with the help of his wife.” Dandelion walked around the chair, sitting opposite Jaskier, “they wanted an heir, but Jaskier never followed orders. He tried to escape to Oxenfurt but they followed him there. He tried to make it on his own on the road, change his name, escape. But without you, he was alone, and no one else helped him. They found him soon after Posada. They dragged him back home, found him a wife, and sedated him. He’s been here, in a state similar to this, ever since.” 

A woman walked into the room. Her hair was drawn into a tight bun. Her eyes were the same blue as Jaskiers. Geralt sneered in disgust when he realized this must be his mother. She pet Jaskier’s hair, offered him a drink

Jaskier didn’t take the cup. 

“Julian, darling, if you drink it, I can have the bard come play for you later.” Jaskier turned away from her, and her eyes got hard. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, shoved the drink against his lips. He didn’t even fight her as she poured the liquid down his throat. He was probably too numb to try. 

Once the glass was empty, she smoothed his hair down again. “He’ll be here shortly sweetie, your wife will come listen too, won’t that be nice?” 

Jaskier watched her go, a spark of anger in his eyes, but then it disappeared, and he slumped in his chair, empty eyes back on the fire.

Geralt felt sick. 

“No, Jaskier… he doesn’t like his parents but it’s not - they never did this!” 

“They didn’t do anything this bad before he went to Oxenfurt, but they were starting too. A dash in his breakfast, to keep him calm for his lessons. They locked him in his room for days if he refused to eat it. The Jaskier in your world knew what they were capable of. That’s why he hadn’t seen his parents since he left home at 14… until now, that is.” 

Geralt twisted around, “what?” 

“After the mountain, Jaskier got lazy. He had told the dwarves his name, Julian Pankratz de Lettenhove, and they found him. He looks similar to this Julian now, alone and sedated in the Lettenhove manor.” 

“No,  _ no _ , he went to Oxenfurt.” 

“He did, that’s where they found him. Haven’t you noticed there’s been no new songs recently? _ Her Sweet Kiss _ was his last.” 

He hadn’t noticed… or if he had, he assumed it was because of the war. Why had Jaskier never told him about this? 

Why hadn’t Geralt been there to protect him? 

“I need to fix this.” 

Dandelion’s eyes shimmered, “how?” 

“I need to… go back. I need to save him.” 

“He’s been drugged for a long time now, Geralt. The Jaskier you knew may be gone.” 

No. No, he couldn’t be. Geralt could face the fact that his anger had ruined Jaskier’s life. That couldn’t be true. 

“Fuck,” Geralt stood up, walked away from Jaskier’s still body. “Fuck, this never should have happened. I should have gone after him on the mountain. I should never have let this all happen!” 

“Yes?” Dandelion appeared in front of him, his smile wide, “is that what you wish, Geralt?” 

Geralt looked at him, and that’s when he knew. Fae were powerful. Powerful enough to show him all this. Powerful enough to take Yennefer’s magic and turn it into a child. 

Powerful enough to rewrite history. 

Whatever Dandelion was, djinn, or some other type of Fae, Geralt knew he could do it. 

“Yes.” He said, his voice sure. “I wish I had gone after Jaskier on the mountain. I wish we had never parted ways.” 

Dandelion’s smile grew, “it is done.” He said, and tapped Geralt on his forehead one last time. 

\-- 

Geralt woke up to the sound of music. And laughter. 

He bolted upright. He was in his room in Kaer Morhen. There was snow outside. It looked the same it had before. It smelled the same. 

It did not sound the same. 

Geralt pushed back the furs, ran into the hall, down to the main room. There sat Jaskier, beside Vesemir, Ciri, and Yennefer. He was singing a children’s song about snow. Ciri was laughing. Yennefer was smiling. Vesemir watching them all with amusement. 

Geralt felt his chest finally loosen, he finally sucked in his first real breath, warmth filling his body - and then he was hit with a rush of memories. 

Rushing after Jaskier, and finding him at the base of the mountain. Apologizing. Letting Jaskier ride Roach, and then buying him his own horse to show he was truly sorry. 

Jaskier, laughing into their first kiss a few nights later. 

Jaskier, panting as Geralt pushed into him the first time. 

Jaskier, wrapping Ciri up in blankets the first night they have her. Reassuring her that everything will be fine. She’s safe now. 

Jaskier, playing songs for Ciri after every nightmare. 

Jaskier and Ciri, teaming up together to make fun of Geralt every time he gets too serious. 

Jaskier, convincing Yennefer to come live in Kaer Morhen with them, until Ciri is trained. 

Jaskier, leaning against Geralt as they eavesdrop on Yennefer and Ciri as she brushed the girl's hair. 

Jaskier, asleep in his arms, Yennefer’s eyes softening as she watched them together. They know now the thing between them was magic, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t real. They were a family. All of them. 

Geralt came back to himself, his breath in his throat. They were all watching him in concern. 

“Geralt, love, are you alright?” Jaskier asked, putting down the lute. 

“I’m fine,”Geralt said. More than fine. 

He was happy. 

Jaskier hummed though, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s waist like it was normal. 

Geralt felt like it was. 

“You’re worried about your brothers, aren’t you? Vesemir is too, I’m sure they’ll arrive today.” 

His brothers, alive and walking the path. Geralt was sure they would arrive today. 

“I’m not worried,” he said, pulling Jaskier in close, “I have you.” He kissed him then, for the first time, but also the hundredth. 

No matter how many times he kissed this man, he doubted he would ever grow tired of it. 

“Ew,” Ciri giggled behind them. Geralt savored that sound as well. 

“Yeah, get a room,” Yennefer teased. 

Geralt’s heart couldn’t get any warmer. 

He was here, finally, with his family. He wouldn’t change a thing. 

\-- 

Lambert and Eskel showed up that afternoon, as Geralt expected. Eskel had his usual smile. Lambert his shit eating grin. 

Geralt pulled them both into a tight hug. He ignored their teasing. 

Jaskier pulled them all outside to play in the snow. “It’s tradition!” he said, “Ciri needs to learn how to celebrate winter properly!” 

Geralt didn’t mind. He enjoyed watching Ciri and Jaskier build a snowman. He enjoyed coming inside, curling around the fire with tea. 

He was warm and happy, as Jaskier sat in the V of his legs, playing a song Geralt had never heard. 

“What is that?” 

“Something new, for our little lion cub.” 

Geralt smiled, and through the crackle of the fire, he swore he heard an excited laugh. His smile grew. 

Let’s just say I’m a fan, Dandelion had said. Not a fan of Geralt though, a fan of Jaskier. Geralt almost laughed. All of that, just so he could hear Jaskier’s new songs? Geralt almost rolled his eyes at the dramatics of the Fae, but he didn’t dare. 

Because of Dandelion, Geralt now had everything he had ever wanted. 

He wasn’t ever letting go. 

\-- 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think with a kudos or comment! 
> 
> Happy Holidays! :)


End file.
